


week four: safe (we've made it this far)

by apathetic_revenant



Series: Stanuary 2018 [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, Recovery, late night comfort cocoa with family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apathetic_revenant/pseuds/apathetic_revenant
Summary: Written for Stanuary 2018. Stan recovers from a nightmare.





	week four: safe (we've made it this far)

 

The night before the kids go back home, Stan has a nightmare.

In his dream, he didn't speak up soon enough. In his dream, he stood unable to move, unable to open his mouth, while the two symbols flash back and forth across the demon's eye. In his dream, it was too late.

He wakes up gasping.

The room is silent and still. The moon shines a gentle beam of pale light through his window. Outside there is no noise but the quiet shush of trees in a slow wind. He doesn't know what time it is.

It's been a week since the end of the world, and things are alright. The kids are safe. Ford is safe. Soos is safe. Stan, himself, is safe. Bill is gone; Stan took care of that himself. There is no reason to fear any longer.

But Stan's in a cold sweat now, and he can't stop shaking. He knows the kids are upstairs sleeping soundly. He _knows_. But he has to check.

So he gets out of bed, pulls on his robe and shoves his feet into his slippers, and pads quietly out of the room. He has no idea what time it is, just that it's late.

He doesn't turn on any lights, just makes his way by memory and moonlight. After thirty years in the Shack he knows his way around by heart. Quietly as he can, he ascends the attic stairs and pushes open the door to the kids' room.

Mabel is fast asleep, curled up in the midst of an impressive pile of stuffed animals, but Dipper is still awake, bunched up with a book against his knees, scribbling with a pencil in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Stan curses internally and goes to shut the door before Dipper can notice, but he doesn't quite make it. Dipper looks up, shining the flashlight towards the door and inadvertently blinding Stan.

“Grunkle Stan?” he says in surprise.

Stan sighs. “Go back to sleep, kid.”

Instead of doing that, Dipper starts to get out of bed. He lays his book on the nightstand and Stan realizes that he's been writing in one of Ford's journals. “What's the matter? Is everything alright?”

Mabel stirs at the commotion and sits up, rubbing her eyes. “Grunkle Stan? What's going on?”

Stan curses internally. This is the last thing he wanted. “Nothing's wrong, kids. I was just...checking up on you.”

Dipper frowns, getting that pinched look that's all too similar to how Ford looks sometimes. Must be a gene for that or something. “Checking up on us? Why?”

“It's nothing,” Stan says. “Look, just--”

“Did you have a bad dream?” Mabel asks.

That kid is far too astute, Stan thinks. He blows out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I did, okay? It's no big deal. Just go back to sleep.”

“Aww, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel hops out of bed, dashes over to Stan, and hugs him around the knees. “It's okay. We're here now.”

Stan, at a loss for what else to do, reaches down and rubs her head. “I know, sweetie.”

“You know what I do when I have a bad dream? I get up and make cocoa.” Mabel takes his hand in hers and begins to drag him toward the door. “That always makes me feel better.”

“It's the middle of the night,” Stan protests.

“So what? Middle of the night cocoa tastes better anyway.”

“There's no point in arguing with her,” Dipper adds, trailing after them. “Not when she's on a cocoa mission.”

“Do you have bad dreams a lot?” Stan asks, concerned at this turn of conversation.

“Not that often,” Mabel confides, “but Dipper does.”

“Mabel!”

“Well you do!”

“So when Dipper has a bad dream,” Stan says, “ _you_ get up and make cocoa?”

“Sure,” Mabel says. “And then I feel better. Dipper usually does too, though.”

Stan wonders if this has happened while the kids have been staying with him. With everything going on this summer, he'd be surprised if the kids didn't have their share of nightmares, but he never noticed this particular ritual. Were there nights when he was hidden away downstairs working on the portal that the kids were up, trying to drown their own sorrows in hot chocolate? The thought lurks guiltily at the back of his brain.

Mabel leads him into the kitchen and sits him down at the table before taking the milk from the fridge and pouring a generous amount into a saucepan with a practiced air. Dipper sits down in the other chair, legs dangling.

“What was your nightmare about?” he asks.

“Eh,” Stan grunts. “Nothing you need to know about.”

“Oh.”

“Kids?”

Everyone turns toward the doorway, where Ford is standing, blinking owlishly in the fluorescent light. He's wearing his customary outfit, because of course he is, but he's in his socks and looks distinctly rumpled.

“I heard voices,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything's fine,” Stan grumbles. “Go back to bed.”

This doesn't work on Ford either. “I wasn't asleep,” he says. “Why are you all up in the middle of the night?”

“Couldn't sleep,” Stan says. “No big deal.”

“I'm making cocoa,” Mabel says cheerfully. “Want some?”

“Oh,” Ford says, momentarily diverted. “Um. Yes?”

“I think there's enough milk to go around.” Mabel hums to herself as she stirs the milk and gets four mugs and the box of cocoa mix out of the cabinet. The silence in the kitchen should feel awkward, but instead Stan finds himself sinking into it comfortably, like it's a heavy blanket wrapped around him.

Ford crosses over to Stan and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Everything alright?” he says quietly.

Stan looks at him, bedraggled but whole and here, radiating concern. Looks at the kids, sleepy and cheerful and very much alive. Looks at himself.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, everything's alright.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
